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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852191">dishing out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator'>electronic_elevator</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Crying, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Wetting, Forced diapering, Humiliation, M/M, Manhandling, Non-Consensual, Omorashi, Punishment, Spanking, They're mean to Damien :C, diaper messing, forced messing, gets really soft at the end actually I was feelin' some kinda way, messing, then in chapter 2:, this is LOWKEY two fics in one, with a blanket warning that everybody's drunk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:14:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ch 1 — Damien runs out of money while playing poker with the Actor and the Colonel. He, responsibly, says he’ll fold, but his friends cajole him into making a non-monetary bet. Evidently he’s on a losing streak.</p><p>Ch 2 — Celine comes home and she’s livid that her husband and her good friend made her brother cry. She doesn’t have jurisdiction over William, but she sure can punish Mark. (Then again, he probably needs it.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Actor &amp; William &amp; Damien, Actor/William/Damien (kind of), Celine/Actor, Damien &amp; Celine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m going against my own wishes in posting this …… it was meant just to satiate my “Damien’s friends make him cry” craving…… buuuut then it became a lot more than that, and I really liked how it turned out… but that’s just a warning that this MIGHT BE TRASHY b/c it was not meant for others’ eyes in the first place </p><p>idk how poker works and I spent time looking up when tissues and toilet paper were invented (1924 and 1857 respectively, if you’re curious) instead of the poker thing :/</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hmm, I’m out. I fold. I can’t go in any deeper than this, friends,” Damien said with a laugh, accepting his fate in the poker game. </p><p>“Oh, come now, play another round and you could win it back!” William countered, at the same time that the Actor said, “We’re having so much fun, Damien, don’t bow out now!” </p><p>“No, no; you’ve both played a good game tonight. I’m out! I’m going to head to the restroom; settle the score between the two of you.” </p><p>His friends grumbled, pouty at the prospect of stopping the fun so ‘early,’ despite having reached the early morning hours. </p><p>“What if we let you bet something other than money?” William suggested. He’d done it himself before, but typically only after he’d committed to betting more than he could actually back. </p><p>Damien hesitated, mulling the offer over. He’d decided it would depend on what was at stake and been about to ask what William had in mind when the other man began to snicker over the rim of his glass. </p><p>“You’d said you needed to go to the bathroom. What if we play one more round, and if you lose, we get to put you in a diaper?” William said. </p><p>Damien balked. That was out of left field, even for William. “Why would you want to do that?!” </p><p>Mark caught William’s laughter, though sounded as incredulous as Damien. “You’ve got to admit, Dames, it would be quite funny. I’d be willing to bet against that.” </p><p>“Come now. I’m not going to agree to something so…,” Damien started, before Mark cut him off. </p><p>“We’ll clear the slate,” Mark suggested. “Winner take all. And, in your case, either way that’d clear your debts for the night,” he continued, appealing to Damien’s fiscally responsible side. </p><p>“I’ll put a hundred dollars forward!” William declared, slamming his now-empty glass on the table.</p><p>Damien’s train of thought sputtered to a halt. “A <i>hundred</i> dollars?! Will, you can’t be serious.” Damien wasn’t sure he had that kind of money to be betting. </p><p>The Colonel only grinned back. </p><p>The Actor laughed again, raising his own drink as if for a toast. “I can match that.”</p><p>$200 dollars on the line! That was a hell of a lot of money. …But was Damien really willing to risk his pride for <i>money?</i> And, they were both much drunker than Damien; was it even right to take them up on a bet at the moment? And, logistically… “Where would you even get a diaper that would fit— an adult?” Now that he was actually considering the bet, he pictured losing. Simultaneously, he realized their laugher was already directed at their own mental images of the possibility, and it made him blush. </p><p>William didn’t hesitate. “Oh, Mark’s got all kinds of things in this old mansion.” </p><p>The Actor seemed to shoot him a look that Damien didn’t quite process before adding, “He’s probably right; I could find something that would work for you.” </p><p>“C’mon, Damien, be a good sport, play us one more round,” William drawled. </p><p>Damien thought it over. The three of them were relatively evenly skillful. And, morals aside, being the most sober member of the party (particularly compared with the Colonel…) was likely to give him an advantage. Either way, he’d clear his debt or make a <i>solid</i> chunk of change. The only cost to him could be… his pride. But he was among friends; surely they wouldn’t be too cruel. Although it <i>would</i> be humiliating, it’d be a quick joke, then they’d all move on. And that was only if he lost. “…Fine. One more round. My debts are now cleared and if I win, I get $100 from each of you.” </p><p>“But if <i>we</i> win, we get to put you in a diaper,” William restated, snickering. Damien’s face still felt hot, but he sat back down, grabbing the cards to reshuffle them as Mark reset the rest of the table.</p><p>———</p><p>Damien lost. He stared at his hand, keeping his best poker face until he’d triple checked that, no, there was no way out of this one. “…I fold,” he admitted. </p><p>Absolutely ravenous grins appeared on his friends’ faces. “Oh Damien,” Mark cooed. “You know what that means!” </p><p>Damien tried to laugh, although he was suddenly nervous. “I suppose so. A bet’s a bet.”</p><p>Mark knocked back the last of his drink before walking off. “Well, let me go dig something up; I’ll be back.” </p><p>Damien busied himself cleaning up the table to avoid thinking too hard about his impending payment, or talking to William about it. </p><p>Mark came back quickly, holding what was unmistakably an adult diaper. </p><p>“Why do you <i>have</i> that?” Damien asked, both curious and stalling. </p><p>“For you, of course!” William exclaimed, despite not being the one addressed. He got up from the poker table to clasp Damien’s shoulders, knocking him off balance and manhandling him towards the couch. Once they got there, Damien was barely steadied before William moved his hands to the fly of Damien’s suit pants.</p><p>“Colonel, I could do that myself if I must—!!” Damien tried to insist, but before he could finish his sentence Will had undone his belt, pulled both his pants and underwear down to his ankles, and pushed Damien, causing him to fall onto the couch with a gasp. Damien locked eyes with Mark who’d watched the whole thing, darkly amused. </p><p>“I didn’t realize you’d be…” but then Damien trailed off as Mark came up between his legs, unfolding the diaper. He fought the urge to cover himself; it wouldn’t last, anyway. </p><p>“That was part of the bet, remember, Damien? We get to <i>put you</i> in the diaper.” Mark moved with confidence, and a little extra zeal lent by the alcohol he’d imbibed. Damien had to move, picking his hips up and moving his shirt out of the way, to compensate, and before long he had a plush white diaper wrapped around his midsection. Strangely, he felt better once it was on — less exposed. Really, it was just like underwear, after all, so Damien supposed he needn’t feel too hung up over it. But then the Colonel absolutely busted out laughing, the full body kind that brought tears to your eyes and made your knees weak. The Actor had started snickering but seemed to feed off William’s energy and was soon enough cackling as well. </p><p>Damien flushed the deepest red yet. “What?!” he demanded, picking himself up and scootching away from the Actor to the other side of the couch. </p><p>“You look ridiculous, Damien,” Mark managed. </p><p>“You should see yourself! Like a toddler playing dress-up in his older brother’s clothes!” </p><p>“He’s playing pretend, Colonel; the little baby wants to be the mayor when he grows up!"</p><p>He couldn’t possibly look that ridiculous..! Well, now Damien regretted the bet; he’d rather pay his original debt than hear them talk about him like he wasn’t there and insult him for something they’d put him up to. He huffed, ready to snap back a reply, but then they continued. </p><p>“Awwww, is the little mayor getting upset?” </p><p>“Damien, I know you’re trying to look <i>capable</i> right now, but it just doesn’t work in a diaper,” Mark professed through his laughter.</p><p>“Don’t get him too upset, Mark, we don’t want to make the baby cry!” William guffawed. </p><p>“I’m not a baby!” Damien argued, the defense springing from his tongue before he realized that’s exactly what a baby would say. </p><p>“You sure look the part.” </p><p>“C’mon, c’mon, stand up so we can get a real look at you.” </p><p>“You seem to be getting a plenty good look from there…” Damien grumbled, but stood up, trying not to curl in on himself. This would be the quickest way to being done with this. </p><p>“Aww, Dames, you look so uncomfortable. Isn’t it soft, with all that fluffy padding?” </p><p>“Maybe he’s gotta, y’know, <i>go</i>.” </p><p>Again, Damien opened his mouth to defend himself, but the others kept talking, unphased. </p><p>“He did say he needed to go earlier, and we made him play another game instead,” Mark continued, to William. </p><p>“How mean of us! A baby like him can’t hold it that long!” </p><p>He hated that it was true that he needed to go. He could certainly hold it, but it was nonetheless especially humiliating to be teased about it. To Damien’s further shame, he could feel the beginnings of tears burning at the backs of his eyes, but he <i>wasn’t</i> going to cry in front of them because of a little teasing… especially when it would only egg them on. He blinked, trying to tell himself they weren’t getting to him. </p><p>“Awww, poor Damien, do you need to go potty?” Mark asked, voice dripping with faux-sweetness. </p><p>“Shut up—” Damien started, until William groped his ass and he cut off with a gasp, not for the first time resenting how hands-on his friend could be. </p><p>“He seems clean so far,” he reported to Mark. </p><p>“Oh, <i>clean?</i>” Actor remarked, eyes widening. “I just meant — well, alright then.” They snickered together. </p><p>Damien looked between them. “…You don’t expect me to—“ </p><p>William spun him around, so that his back faced the Actor. He was nearly knocked off balance again, and only avoided falling because William took care to hold him steady. “What do you think? Looks clean so far?” </p><p>“William, this isn’t funny.” Damien was trying to sound firm, but he could hear the tears building in his eyes, and so could his friends.</p><p>He heard the Actor tsk from behind him. “Oh, you’re just cranky because you need to make in your diapers.” </p><p>Damien really wanted this to end. It might be the most humiliating thing he’d ever done, and he just wanted to leave — to return to the comfort of his own home, and refuse to talk to them for a few days. They were either drunker or more sadistic than he’d thought, because Damien was starting to think they weren’t going to let him go until he used the damn diaper, as well. </p><p>Anything to get it over with. Despite being angry with them, it was with more of a whimper than a huff that he settled down into a partial squat and pushed.</p><p>“Oh my god—”<br/>
“You’re not actually—” </p><p>Damien was filling the seat of his pants, something he hadn’t done since childhood, and certainly never on purpose. Surprisingly, it wasn’t easy— there was resistance from the plush material, and he stopped pushing for a second only to feel it rock back into him, an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation that made him blush. So, he had to keep pushing, and was also unpleasantly surprised to find the effort of it all caused him to pee more than a little as well, the front of the padding dampening and growing heavier as the back expanded to accommodate his mess. In this position, he was almost hyper-aware of the feelings and the process of going. Disgust curled his lip as the smell reached his nose, but he’d mostly finished. The diaper felt tight around his waist, holding his mess up against him, clinging to him. He kept his stance wide in an effort to distance himself as much as possible. His eyes were full of tears now, the image of William in front of him swimming. </p><p>“Are you happy now? Can I clean up? I’d like to go home and get away from you two assholes,” Damien spat, breaking the silence that had accumulated. </p><p>“I can’t believe you actually just messed yourself, Damien, oh my <i>god</i>,” the Actor downright wheezed. Damien felt like he’d physically been hit with something. </p><p>“We wouldn’t have made you do <i>that!</i> But you went ahead and did it yourself!” William laughed. Damien tried to keep his breathing steady, each word bringing him closer to tears. He was afraid to blink lest he dislodge the ones gathered there. </p><p>“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve done this before? We put a diaper on you and it’s too much for your tiny baby brain?” Mark jabbed.</p><p>“Or did you really have to go that badly?” William moved in, looking closer. Damien wanted to push him away but didn’t want to risk falling in his mess and so had no choice but to let him. “Aww, you pissed yourself, too! Poor baby Damien really had to go!” </p><p>Damien couldn’t keep from crying anymore, even though William was still close to him after getting a look at his sodden diaper. It was too much. The tears he’d been trying so hard not to shed rolled down his cheeks. He’d thought this would at least end the torment, but clearly he wasn’t so lucky. He was utterly humiliated, and now he was crying, too. </p><p>“Oh no, Mark, we made the baby cry!” William said, with some real pity but no responsibility for it.</p><p>“Oh, that’s just what babies do when they have dirty diapers,” Mark said dismissively.</p><p>“But he’s been telling us he’s not a baby. If it wasn’t an accident, then he did it on purpose and he’s a naughty little boy.” </p><p>“You two made me!” Damien insisted, swiping at his face in an attempt to preserve some dignity even though he was still crying, little hiccups disrupting his breathing. He could barely follow whatever the hell the two of them were tossing back and forth but he didn’t like where it was going. </p><p>“No, you filled your diapers up all by yourself.” </p><p>“Maybe we should punish him. If he’s not a baby, he should’ve asked to go to the potty!” </p><p>“But he didn’t, he just pushed it all into his pants.” </p><p>Damien sobbed, standing uncomfortably in the middle of the room while they talked over him, legs forced too-far apart by the swollen padding, sagging and stained between his legs. “Please stop…” he begged.</p><p>“Our esteemed mayor, crying in a dirty diaper. What a sight to see. C’mon, now, we don’t want the baby getting a rash. Take my hand, you can go get cleaned up in the guest bathroom.” </p><p>“No! You’ve done enough,” Damien shouted, moving forward past Mark’s outstretched hand, cringing at the wet sensations on his sensitive skin as he did. </p><p>“Damien—“ Mark called after him, sounding a little exasperated, like Damien wasn’t being reasonable. </p><p>Damien didn’t look back, forcing himself to keep waddling towards the aforementioned bathroom. He knew where it was, could get himself cleaned up just fine… but the huff from William and the patronizing tsk from Mark still hurt him. They could at least recognize they’d gone too far and apologize. They were supposed to be his best friends!</p><p>He slammed the door behind him; he was still crying, so he just stood for a second, trying to catch his breath. Damien admitted didn’t actually know how to clean himself up; he’d never messed his pants before, at least not since being potty trained. But he had to try, so he waddled to the toilet and untaped himself over it, careful not to drop the diaper. The smell was horrible and he tried not to breathe it in, whimpering in pure shame. He awkwardly, trying to avoid getting any on his hands, tried to fold it to hide the bulk of his mess, then dropped it in the trash can. He tried not to think about what the house staff would think, or whether they would laugh at him as if he hadn’t been through enough humiliation. </p><p>Then came the cleanup of himself. The walk to the bathroom had gotten him filthy, so he hovered over the toilet, wiping himself with too-much toilet paper until he thought he was clean. </p><p>Damien washed his hands, then rolled up his sleeves and washed up his arms. He still felt disgusting; he would take a long, hot shower as soon as he was back at his house, but didn’t want to spend an extra second in Mark’s manor after the way he’d been treated tonight. </p><p>Then he realized his pants were still in the other room. </p><p>He shifted uncomfortably, exposed from the waist down but still dressed nicely on top, cheeks still wet with tears and breath still hitched with the occasional sniffle. He really did feel pathetic. But he was going to have to ask.</p><p>Damien opened the door, looking out with what he hoped was a stern expression. “Mark. William. Can one of you bring me my pants?” he called out. His voice sounded so small, so embarrassed, even to his own ears.</p><p>Damien saw them exchange grins from where they sat near the couch they’d diapered him on. William replied, “Come now, Damien, we’ve just sat down! Come get them yourself.” </p><p>He couldn’t believe how mean his <i>best friends</i> were being! He pulled his shirt down as far as it would go and walked out in a huff. At least he wasn’t waddling now. And he’d calmed down enough to stop crying, lending him a bit of his dignity back. </p><p>His pants were still on the floor, beside William.  Damien didn’t address either man, though he could tell they were watching him. As he walked past, intending to turn away before he bent down to pick them up for obvious reasons, William remarked, “You’re not even clean, you know!” </p><p>Damien flushed bright red again, turning his backside away from the other man. “W-what? You’re lying.” </p><p>William laughed. “Damien, would you rather smear your mess all over your nice suit pants, or let me clean you up?” </p><p>At this point, both options were terrible.</p><p>But then, William stood, effortlessly grabbing Damien and laying him over his lap with his ass in the air even as Damien yelped in protest.</p><p>The Actor commented dryly, degrading him again: “Oh, my, I see what you mean, Colonel. I’m not surprised the baby couldn’t clean himself up after such a big mess in his pants, though.” </p><p>Damien stared at the floor by William’s feet, painfully aware of how exposed he was. “You’re lying,” he said, weakly.</p><p>“Why would we lie to you?” The Actor scoffed, taking a drink of his recently refilled glass. </p><p>Damien felt William shift under him. He was withdrawing his handkerchief, and Damien got no warning as it was swiped across his ass, then held near his face. Sure enough, it was dirty, and tears immediately sprung to Damien’s eyes again. He’d never felt so pathetic. </p><p>“Now, do you want me to clean you up, or are you going to go home like this?” William asked.</p><p>Damien shook his head. They hadn’t asked before anything else they’d done tonight; couldn’t he just do it? Why were they so hell-bent on humiliating him? Tears dripped onto the floor. </p><p>“C’mon, Damien, make your choice,” Mark goaded. </p><p>“God, fine, you assholes, just do it,” Damien spat.</p><p>“That’s no way to ask for a favor!” </p><p>William nodded in agreement. “You’re in no position to be talking like that,” he warned. </p><p>Damien whimpered. It was true. “Fine. Can you please clean me up?” he asked, defeated. </p><p>“<i>Why?</i>” the Actor demanded, literally at the edge of his seat, although Damien couldn’t see that from his vantage point. </p><p>“Because I messed myself, and I couldn’t clean myself up, so I need you to do it!” Damien sniffled. He wanted to add that he’d been forced, coerced into it all; without those qualifiers, what he said felt <i>too</i> true, but it didn’t seem smart to point fingers from where he was being held on William’s lap. </p><p>“Well, since you’ve already ruined this handkerchief…” William added, dragging the cloth gently across him. Damien tried not to squirm too much, even though the comment stung. </p><p>After a few minutes, the arm holding him down onto Will’s lap was lifted. “You’re clean.” </p><p>“Guess you can put your big-boy pants back on if you think you can keep them dry,” Mark teased. </p><p>Damien didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled on his clothes, slipping into his shoes while standing, and immediately heading for the door. </p><p>“Wait— Damien—“ </p><p>“No!!” The man in question shouted, whirling around. “You two have been so horrible to me tonight. I don’t know when I’ll want to talk to you again, let alone stay here any longer tonight.” The effect was muffled by the fact that he was <i>still</i> crying, shameful tears dripping onto his shirt now that he was upright. </p><p>Both of the other men looked put out and sad. “Damien, we were just having a little fun…” William tried. </p><p>“It wasn’t fun,” Damien spat, yanking open Mark’s door to reveal his sister, rapidly processing in the scene.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>how this chapter was born: “*finishes wrecking Damien* …. well now I wanna wreck the Actor” (also I couldn’t let Damien leave and walk home alone like that)</p>
<p>but as mentioned in tags this really probably should’ve been a separate fic, and it ends downright embarrassingly softly I was yearning so sue me….</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For a second the twins stared at each other in surprise. Celine took in Damien’s teary face, then looked past him at the others. Rage took hold of her features as soon as she deduced they’d made him cry.</p>
<p>“Celine,” Mark said nervously. “What were you doing out tonight..?”</p>
<p>She walked the rest of the way into the house, striding towards him with a confidence that would strike fear into the heart of any man and ignoring his inquiry completely. “What the hell did you and William do to my little brother?” </p>
<p>“Well, we were playing a bit of poker, and he lost a bet,” William began, equally nervous. </p>
<p>Damien just might die if they hashed out the details to his sister of all people. “Please don’t,” he said, horrified.</p>
<p>“Please don’t what?” Celine asked, glancing once at her brother’s blushing face before returning her glare to the guilty looking men beside her. “I’ll ask again: what the <i>hell</i> did you do to my little brother?” </p>
<p>“Celine, just drop it; we’re all drunk, I lost a bet, I’ll recover,” Damien pleaded.</p>
<p>But Celine was staring, icy, at Mark, who wouldn’t meet her eyes. “It was William’s idea!” the Actor complained.</p>
<p>William huffed. “Oh, like you didn’t go right along with it. You were the one who diapered him!” </p>
<p>Damien cringed as he said it. Celine turned to William. “Care to explain?” </p>
<p>“Well, he was out of money but we wanted to play another round, so Mark and I bet against… diapering him.” William explained, sheepishly. </p>
<p>Celine turned back to Damien. “Is that true?” </p>
<p>Mark and William looked around her to Damien, imploring him with pleading expressions to leave it at that. Neither wanted to be the target of Celine’s rage. They were hoping that Damien would choose to avoid the details and save his pride rather than sacrifice it for the revenge Celine might enact.</p>
<p>But if <i>someone</i> didn’t say more, Damien would look awfully pathetic to be left this wrecked by just that. He straightened up, trying to lend himself confidence. “It’s true, but they’re leaving out how badly they… humiliated me,” he said, avoiding eye contact with anyone in particular. This was going to be harder to admit than he thought. </p>
<p>But Celine was awfully observant. To the mutual horror of the men, she carefully picked up the handkerchief from where William had evidently placed it on the table, regarding it long enough to confirm how it had been used before dropping it with disgust. “I can guess. I take it you’re clean now?” she asked, gently. Damien gave a hesitant nod. </p>
<p>“The two of you owe Damien an apology. A stupid bet is one thing, but it’s clear you went too far.” </p>
<p>“…I’m sorry, Damien, I didn’t mean anything by it…” the Colonel offered. “We know it wasn’t actually your fault.” </p>
<p>“…sorry, Damien, we shouldn’t’ve gotten carried away like that…” the Actor mumbled. “I hope you can forgive us…” </p>
<p>And they weren’t lying; now that Celine had disrupted the alcohol-fueled, mutually-reinforcing chaotic state that had spurred them on, they were forced to actually think about what they’d done, and they did feel bad about how far they’d gone. </p>
<p>Damien gave a short nod, feeling in control of his situation for the first time since he lost the game. While an honest apology didn’t fix everything, he did appreciate it, and this interlude had given him time to calm down from being so actively upset. </p>
<p>“I think it would be best if our guests left, Mark. I’m not done with you.” </p>
<p>Mark paled at the seeming-threat, but agreed. “Alright… perhaps that would be best…” </p>
<p>“…Goodnight, then,” Damien said with another nod. He left for his own home. </p>
<p>“William. You better believe if you do something like that to my brother again, there will be consequences for you as well.”</p>
<p>He believed it. He nodded. “…Of course, Celine… I really am sorry,” he repeated. It didn’t soften Celine’s stare, so he gathered his things and prepared to leave, as well. Headed for the door, he wished them farewell. “Well, goodnight, Celine, Mark…!” With a sympathetic look to Mark, he made his escape.</p>
<p>“Celine, my love, were you out on a walk..?” the Actor said, trying a conversational approach. </p>
<p>“Do you really think that’s what I want to talk with you about right now?”</p>
<p>The Actor gulped. “No.” </p>
<p>“No?” </p>
<p>“…No, ma’am.” </p>
<p>“That’s right. Now tell me what you did to Damien.” Celine said firmly.</p>
<p>The Actor was fidgeting, slipping rapidly into subspace. The fall from the power he’d had over Damien was almost dizzying. “William and I each bet $100 against getting to diaper Damien in an all-or-nothing round of poker… Damien lost, obviously, so William moved him to the couch and I diapered him. We were… mean; we made him think we were going to make him mess himself until he actually did it, then we were mean about that, too.” </p>
<p>“Mark!” Celine scolded.</p>
<p>“Are you going to punish me?” he asked before she could continue, looking up at her nervously. He already knew the answer, but would rather move onto that than allow the conversation to linger on himself.</p>
<p>“I think you know the answer to that. It was an irresponsible bet in the first place, and you clearly need a lesson in treating others how you’d like to be treated. How much have you drank tonight?” </p>
<p>The Actor blinked. “A lot, I don’t know how much.” </p>
<p>“Do you need to pee?” Celine asked, and Mark started to guess what she had in mind. </p>
<p>Of course he needed to pee; he’d been drinking for hours without a bathroom break. “Well, yes, but—” </p>
<p>Celine cut him off. “Is that how you answer me? I asked, do you need to pee?” </p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am,” he whined. </p>
<p>She sat across from him. “You’re going to come here, right over my knee, and I’m going to spank your bare ass until I feel you’ve learned your lesson.” </p>
<p>The Actor nodded nervously, getting up and coming to her. He was already blushing at her crude words. Celine tipped him forward, settling him so that her leg pressed directly into his bladder. He whimpered, bracing himself on the floor. He squirmed against the increased pressure until he realized it only made things worse. “Celine, I’m sorry, we got carried away and it won’t happen again.” </p>
<p>She hummed, but other than that ignored him entirely. She yanked down his pants, exposing him to the air, and he started squirming again, arms going from supporting him on the floor to fluttering around her legs, reaching up and then back down when there was nothing to grab.</p>
<p>“Stay still. Put your arms behind your back.” Mark complied, though it rebalanced him in an even less comfortable way. Without being able to support himself, it felt like all his weight was on his bladder. Celine placed one of her hands gently over his joined ones; he was doing the work to keep himself there, but this acted as a reminder to stay in place and that she had control, as well as a comfort. She rubbed his ass lightly with her other hand. “Are you ready?” </p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am,” Mark confirmed in a small voice. Immediately after, Celine smacked him once, causing him to rock forward and gasp. The pain of the smack coupled with the intensified pressure on his bladder made both more salient. </p>
<p>He didn’t safeword or otherwise act in undue distress, so Celine spanked him again. She alternated cheeks, hitting him harder, each time leaving him wondering if this would be the time he pissed himself. Tears already pricked at his eyes after just a few, and he whimpered and whined openly. It hurt; he knew his ass would already be pinkening, not that he could see it. Though, in the position he was in, anyone else could have. </p>
<p>“I should’ve had them stay,” Celine said. “But Damien is kinder than you. He wouldn’t be mean like you were to him, not even though you’re bent over my knee like an unruly toddler. Do you think he would tease you for it, Mark?” </p>
<p>“No,” Mark said with a sniffle. Tears were rolling down his cheeks now. The pain was getting to him — she hadn’t let up, firm smacks punctuating her sentences, reminding him what this was all about. </p>
<p>“I could call William back. How would you like him to see how easily you go from being a big scary bully to a whimpering little boy with just a couple of smacks, hmm? Would you like him to see you all exposed like this, like you had Damien?”</p>
<p>“No,” Mark whined, not caring that he was proving her point. It hurt and it was embarrassing and he had to pee so badly now.</p>
<p>“Why not?” Celine asked. </p>
<p>Mark’s brain wasn’t entirely in working order, not against the overwhelming pressure in his bladder and the pain from the spanking and trying to listen to Celine’s scolding. He got another smack while he thought of a response, and it was this one that, as he rocked forward, Celine’s leg further pressing into his bladder, that he leaked, a hot spurt of piss shooting into his pants, which at the front were still bunched around him, but were pulled down far enough it also splashed onto Celine’s skirt. A strangled sob escaped him. “Celine, I—“ </p>
<p>“No, don’t speak. I felt it. You just pissed on me, didn’t you?” </p>
<p>Her words cut. “It’s not my fault!” </p>
<p>The next smack was the hardest yet, and it seemed crying weakened his control further because he wet more, soaking his front and her skirt. “Not your fault that you’re pissing yourself? I don’t see how it could be anyone else’s fault, Mark.”</p>
<p>He cried openly, the leaks turning into a trickle as she kept going. Fits and spurts already had them both soaked — he knew he couldn’t fight it anymore and let go full force, the relief bittersweet. </p>
<p>“Tell me what you’re doing, Mark.” </p>
<p>“I’m pissing my pants during my spanking, ma’am,” he sobbed out, and he was still pissing, the puddle underneath them now big enough that he could see it.</p>
<p>“And why are you getting spanked?” </p>
<p>“Because I made Damien feel this way,” he answered in a small voice, still broken with sobs. His stream had slowed back to a trickle and then he was done, at least.</p>
<p>“Five more, and we’ll be done. Can you take five more?” </p>
<p>Mark nodded quickly. Celine counted them out, evenly, softer than the ones that had made him wet himself. “There, you’re done,” she told him softly, coaxing his hands apart then helping him stand back up on shaky legs. </p>
<p>“You did well,” Celine praised, fixing his pants around him. He was still crying. She gently smoothed his hair back; it had gotten a mess from being tipped halfway upside-down. “That’s my good boy. Are you okay?” </p>
<p>Mark nodded, but felt better when she pulled him into a hug (already being soaked, there was no reason not to), cradling him close. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. “I’m sorry; thank you,” he mumbled into her neck. </p>
<p>She hummed a soothing note. “You’re okay now. You did well, and I know you’re sorry. You’re a good man, despite how you treated Damien tonight. I know you learned your lesson.” </p>
<p>Judging by his clinging and lingering sniffles, he clearly wasn’t quite ready to go get cleaned up yet, so Celine just held him, allowing him to take the time he needed. When it seemed his breathing had evened out, Celine prompted, “Are you ready to get cleaned up?” </p>
<p>“Yes, please,” the Actor sighed, pulling back from the hug and shifting in his cold, sticky slacks. Getting cleaned up would be nice. </p>
<p>Celine kissed him on the lips before moving to the pager system installed in the manor, paging the house staff. Mark felt himself flush again as she talked: “Hello, sorry to disturb you at this hour, but Mark had a little too much to drink and had an accident in the poker room.” A pause. And, well, it wasn’t the first time he’d needed to ask someone to clean up a situation like this, but it was no less embarrassing — especially when Celine talked about it like that. Celine continued, “Thank you; yes, he’s fine; we’ll be going to bed here soon. Could someone stop by in an hour or so to pick up the laundry? … Great. Thank you.” Then she hung up.</p>
<p>“Come on; it’ll be taken care of,” Celine confirmed, prompting Mark to follow all the way to their master bathroom, where she started the shower and stripped out of her clothes. Mark followed suit, and Celine deposited the pile outside their door to be collected and cleaned. They showered quickly, but affectionately, sharing the work of washing as another chance for gentle contact. </p>
<p>Then they dried off, using plush oversized towels, and slipped on comfortable pajamas — or rather, Celine did; the Actor preferred to sleep naked, but kept the towel on to walk to the bed. </p>
<p>Celine climbed up under the sheets, getting comfortable. “Come here, baby,” she murmured. </p>
<p>The Actor flipped off the lights, shed the towel on the floor, and slid into the bed beside her, curling into her side after they shared another kiss. She used one hand to gently pet his hair, alternately lightly scratching his scalp and smoothing his hair back. “I love you.” It was very late at night, and they were both tired after an emotionally charged evening, so it was while snuggling like this that they both fell asleep through ‘till morning. “I love you too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>plz leave your opinions in comments :3c also, if 18+, you can find me on Twitter @electroelevator</p></blockquote></div></div>
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